


Burn Without Flame

by dracoqueen22



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Anal Sex, Campaign 2 (Critical Role), Flirting, Inappropriate Use of Mage Hand, M/M, Oral Sex, Sexual Content, Shadowgast, inappropriate use of magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:43:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23915512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22
Summary: Both of them have more in mind when Caleb visits Essek’s home for a study session, one rife with teasing and tension, that ultimately ends up in the bedroom.
Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 16
Kudos: 169





	Burn Without Flame

Caleb decides the first brush of Essek's foot must be an accident, a mistake in depth perception attributed to the limited space beneath the table they currently share.

The second touch feels far more deliberate, further up his calf as it is, and when he glances at the Shadowhand, nothing in Essek's face gives it away. Caleb narrows his eyes before he goes back to his reading, barely a second's pause in the movement of his quill.

"This is not a very complicated spell," Caleb comments without looking up at his companion. "I hope you have something more challenging for me in the future."

"Everything more complex is built upon the basics, Mr. Widogast," Essek says in a neutral tone as he turns his own page with a quiet flutter of parchment. "Master these and even the more difficult spells won't qualify as a challenge."

Caleb looks up then and arches an eyebrow. "I suppose your teacher gave you that pearl of wisdom."

Essek’s gaze flickers toward him, silvered eyes warm and amused. "Don't they all?"

"That is a fair assumption." Amusement tugs at Caleb before he bends his focus back to his work. "And what are you reading, if I may ask?"

"Something beyond your capabilities at present, but not, I think, too far in the future." Essek hums and turns another page. "We shall see."

The third touch comes then, a firmer pressure to his knee which has to be deliberate. Nothing in Essek's expression changes, though if a devil were behind his eyes, Caleb suspects it would be shaped as a tease.

Well.

There are at least two skilled wizards at this table.

Caleb mutters under his breath and hides the necessary gesture in a shift of his body, producing the magical hand beneath the table. His face heats as he contemplates the best mode of attack, before he drags the arcane fingers down a slender thigh.

It tilts away from him as Essek visibly shifts on the other side of the table. Caleb hides a smile behind his book, all concentration lost. He'll have to finish copying this spell later. There are more important matters at hand.

Err. Relatively speaking.

Caleb stares at the book, the language blurring before his eyes, as he focuses again, dragging the spectral hand up into the inner thigh and further still, stopping long before it becomes anything more than an arcane tease.

Essek coughs, and there's a touch to the nape of Caleb's neck, raising the finer hairs there. Shivers erupt across his body. He shifts, heat trickling into the pit of his belly, threatening to gather in his groin.

Caleb idly rolls his wrist to ease a pretend cramp, while his spectral hand gives the faintest tug to Essek's buckle before backing off again.

"I fear I have stared at these pages for too long because I am absorbing nothing," Caleb says as he sits back in the chair, feigning a yawn. "I think a break is in order. What say you, Shadowhand?"

Essek closes his book, marking his place. "Tea?"

"That would be perfect, thank you." Caleb slides a piece of parchment into his book and flicks his fingers, the spectral hand dragging along Essek's sternum, visibly rumpling the fabric.

Essek hastily stands, a flush darkening his skin. "I believe I have something of interest. Your friend gave it to me," he says, the words cast over his shoulder as he floats to a tea set waiting nearby.

"Mr. Clay?"

"Yes. He would be the one."

Caleb manages a chuckle. "Then it's less what we are drinking and more a question of whom."

Essek pauses and looks up as though contemplating the new information. "I feel I should be shocked, but frankly, I am not." He lifts the tea tray and floats back to the table, resting it among their scattered books and notes. "When it comes to your companions, nothing surprises me anymore."

"We do live something of a chaotic life." Caleb accepts the cup floating his direction, inhaling the fragrant brew. He supposes it doesn't bother him either. Drinking tea grown from the dead has now become normal to him.

"Indeed." Essek sits once more, holding his own tea, and a ghostly presence traces the shell of Caleb's right ear as Essek takes a delicate sip. "Speaking of your companions, dare I ask what chaotic circumstances you find yourselves in these days?"

Caleb closes his eyes as if to savor, and imagines his arcane hand tiptoeing up Essek's spine beneath the fall of his cloak. "Surely you don't wish to spend our time discussing the many dangers we've faced as of late."

"I was attempting social niceties," Essek replies as spectral fingers trace the curve of Caleb's neck, and his insides lurch with a needy warmth. "You're correct, however. I can think of better ways to pass the time."

Pressure flirts over Caleb's groin then, barely noticable if he wasn't eagerly anticipating the next touch. He swallows a groan before his need is betrayed, and when he opens his eyes, Essek looks back at him with barely dampened heat of his own. He's flushed, and his face darkens further when Caleb bends his focus to one last caress of an inner thigh, nudging toward what must certainly be growing arousal.

"As can I," Caleb says, behind the cup, before he takes a sip and gently lowers it back to the saucer.

Essek hums, tongue flicking across his lips to moisten them, and he says, "And when are you expected back to your home?"

"Not until morning," Caleb replies, and heat takes his ears, turning them visibly red for sure. Both Nott and Jester had been quite teasing on his way out the door.

"I see." Essek takes another sip before he stands, gliding around the table to Caleb, who looks up at him, curious. "A game then, perhaps. Chess? I have a board in my room."

Caleb stands as well, and their height difference is all the more apparent now, though Essek rises a bit to match him. "I haven't played in some time. I do miss it."

"Is that a yes?"

"It's a yes."

"Excellent." The shadow of a smile graces Essek's lips, one hand emerging from beneath the cloak to beckon with a curve of his fingers. "Follow me."

Caleb does so, anticipation fairly humming in his veins, his pants far too tight to make walking comfortable. He leaves his coat, his scarf, his boots, all of it behind at the table, long since removed for studying in comfort.

"And the tea?"

Essek waves a hand, and the cups return to the tray before it too lifts and floats along behind them. "I don't see any reason it should go to waste."

"How prudent of you, Shadowhand."

Essek gives him a sidelong look. "Refreshments are to be enjoyed, yes?"

"It's a shame you don't have any pastries then," Caleb says with a quiet chuckle, and is rewarded when Essek laughs as well, genuine humor glimmering in his eyes.

"That is, indeed, my greatest failing," Essek says as a spectral touch teases the nape of Caleb's neck again, tugging on the tie keeping his hair in place.

Caleb retaliates with a playful, arcane swat to Essek's rump, and is delighted when Essek falters a pace and the tips of his ears visibly darken. Caleb, smug, catches the tea tray before it hits the floor, the cups and teapot rattling noisily.

"Lose your focus, _Herr_ Thelyss?" Caleb asks, innocent.

Essek flicks his fingers by answer, and a nearby door swings open with nary a creak, Essek gesturing Caleb inside. "I don't know what you mean."

Caleb enters to a room tastefully furnished, curtains drawn back on a balcony to admit a breeze, while the clear centerpoint of the room is a bed far too large for a single occupant. It is neatly made, and appears in desperate need of rumpling, in Caleb's opinion.

He finds a table to relieve himself of the tea tray, and when he turns to address Essek once more, the Shadowhand is behind him, divested of his cloak and mantle, feet planted firmly on the floor.

"You are far more devious than your demeanor suggests.” Essek rests his palm on Caleb's chest, and they are near enough now, the scent of his soap floods Caleb's senses.

Caleb forms a half-smile. "I am, after all, a member of the Mighty Nein," he murmurs, and leans in for a kiss, Essek meeting him halfway, their lips coming together in something that could be called chaste, until the wet heat of Essek's tongue slips into his mouth, sweet with the flavor of the tea.

Caleb hums into the kiss and cups the back of Essek's head, his fingers trailing through short strands of white hair -- too short to grip unfortunately. He deepens the kiss, drawing the length of their bodies together, and is rewarded by the rock of Essek's hips, the answering bulge of an erection pressed to his thigh.

"I do not see a chessboard, Shadowhand," Caleb teases as nimble fingers make short work of his buttons and slide his tunic from his shoulders. "Did you bring me here under false pretenses?"

"I offered a game.” Essek presses a kiss to Caleb's throat, teeth a gentle scrape over the bob of it. "If you prefer Chess, that can be arranged."

Caleb shivers, heat flushing his skin. The pressure of teeth, the ghost of hot breath on his throat... he swallows a groan. "I am not so foolish as to demand a boardgame when you are removing my clothes with obvious intent."

Essek chuckles against his throat. "A wise decision, my friend." He slides the tunic from Caleb's shoulders and drops it to the floor before he takes a step back, fingers flirting with the catches of his own clothing.

"Are you coming?" Essek takes a step toward the bed, and then another, shedding clothes in his wake, which flutter to the ground in discarded clumps.

"I do believe that is the purpose of this particular game." Caleb fumbles with his own clothes, the clasps and buttons at once more complicated than they need to be. He wears too many layers.

It doesn't help that he can't take his eyes off Essek, layers falling to the wayside until the last robe hits the floor, and he stands nude before Caleb, skin unblemished and clear, body lithe and toned, begging to be worshipped.

Caleb's mouth goes dry before it immediately waters, the urge to put his lips on those hipbones overwhelming, along with the desire to take the curved length into his mouth. Fluid already beads at the tip as if inviting him.

Caleb near stumbles as he tries to remove his pants and get nearer to Essek all in the same movement. He flushes, embarrassed, but there's no taunt in Essek's eyes, because his gaze seems hungry as well, though Caleb can't imagine why. He's pale to Essek's flushed purple, he's scrawny and littered with scars, a landscape of pain etched into his flesh.

"It is," Essek murmurs, and he's close again, capturing Caleb's hand, drawing it up to feather a kiss on the underside of his wrist, his gaze locked with Caleb's. "So long as you're amenable."

Caleb swallows another groan as Essek tugs him toward the bed, and then they are upon it, stretched across sheets so fine as to be silken, cool compared the heat of Caleb's skin. He feels as if there's fire smoldering beneath his flesh, and every touch only stokes the flames higher.

"I am here, am I not?" Caleb pulls Essek into another kiss, hips rolling up to greet the knee pressed between his thighs.

He shivers as a palm skates over his sternum as if mapping the contours. It rubs over a peaked nipple, sending bursts of pleasure through his veins. Essek smiles against his mouth, and his fingers pinch at Caleb's nipple, rolling it expertly, as his cock throbs. Surely, he’s leaving a smear of precome along the Shadowhand’s thigh.

"You are sensitive," Essek murmurs approvingly.

Caleb fights back a flush, and imagines he's largely unsuccessful. "Touch is, ehhh, something I am not entirely accustomed to as of late," he admits.

"Well, that is not as much of a compliment as I could have hoped." Essek’s hands slide further down, fingers dragging across Caleb's sternum, his abdomen, leaving trails of heat behind. "I shall have to change that."

Caleb sucks in a breath, body curving toward Essek, grasping at the Shadowhand's arms to keep him in place. "You won't have to try very hard," he admits as Essek's hand curves around his length, and stars dance behind Caleb's eyes. A low groan escapes from his throat as he unconsciously bucks into the tunnel of Essek's fist.

"Indeed. You are already quite hard," Essek says, and Caleb's face flames with heat.

He rolls up into Essek's hand again, thighs clamped around his knee. "Then you should feel flattered."

"I am on my way to it." Essek bends down and kisses him again, and Caleb loses himself in the tangle of their tongues, the hot press of Essek's mouth, the torturous slow, squeezing strokes of his fist.

He slides his hands around Essek's sides, palming his soft, smooth skin, fingers pressing in to keep the drow close. His pulse throbs with want, his cock spurting several dribbles, until Essek abruptly releases him, and Caleb releases a noise of disappointment before he can stop himself.

Essek pulls back, his eyes dark with intent. He snaps of fingers, and a small vial leaps into his hands, a pale fluid swirling within. "Do you trust me, Mr. Widogast?"

Caleb pauses to consider the question, which should fill him with anxiety, though in this moment, it doesn’t. "For this, I do," he says. It's an important distinction.

The vial pops open and dribbles of an herbal-scented oil spill onto Essek's fingers. "That is enough for me," he says as he leans in to kiss Caleb again, mere seconds before his hand dips between Caleb's thighs, pressing slick fingers against his hole.

Caleb's breath catches into the kiss. He cants his hips upward, thighs spreading to make room, as one finger slides within him, crooking just right to make him see stars. He moans and threads his fingers in Essek's hair, keeping him in place, deepening the kiss to distract himself from the slight burn. It's been awhile since he's given himself to anyone, but his body opens all the same.

One finger becomes two and Caleb makes an urgent noise in his throat, eager for more. Heat builds between them, and Essek's kisses get distracted as he focuses on the motions of his hand. Caleb feathers his lips along the curve of Essek's jaw, to the delicate curve of his ear, and the glittering rings dangling from his lobes.

He'd taken the time to shave so it's a smooth cheek which rubs along Essek's, and the Shadowhand shivers. His fingers curve with more urgency, pressing along the spot within him that makes Caleb buck and see stars.

"Enough," Caleb finally moans, his cock throbbing desperately. Need twists and churns inside of him, his skin slick with sweat.

Essek strokes him a few more times before he withdraws, and Caleb's skin tingles, his entire body fairly humming. "You are ready?"

"Almost," Caleb says, and he paws at Essek, lacking in grace but not intent. "I need a moment."

"Of course." Essek shifts as if to move away, but Caleb catches his hips and pulls him closer.

He licks his lips, heart pounding in his chest, but unwilling to let this opportunity pass him by. "Come here, Essek," Caleb says, and attempts to pull him nearer, where Caleb can finally get his mouth on that beautiful cock.

Understanding brightens silver eyes. "I see," Essek says and carefully moves into position, knees to either side of Caleb's torso, hips canted forward. "Like so?" he asks as he drags the head of his cock over Caleb's lips.

He licks at them, the salty slick painted on his tongue. "Yes. I do not wish to miss an opportunity."

Essek's free hand threads through his hair. "Will this be the last time I find you in my bed, Caleb?"

"I suppose it depends on the whims of fate," Caleb murmurs and takes Essek into his mouth, firm heat sliding across his tongue. Essek throbs a matching beat to Caleb's rapid pulse.

For the first time, Essek's composure cracks. He sucks in a breath, his fingers curving against Caleb's head, scratching his scalp. He visibly shivers, tongue sweeping over his lips, magic flashing in his eyes.

“We bend the strings of fate, Caleb," Essek says, though his voice is breathy, thick with need. He grasps his own thighs, knuckles going white, muscles visibly tense. "This shouldn't be any different."

Caleb's mouth is full, so he replies by drawing Essek deeper, until he nudges the back of Caleb's throat. He spasms, briefly ruined by his gag reflex, but unwilling to release Essek. There's a certain power in watching the flush take over Essek's skin, the way he simultaneously tenses and relaxes, the little twitches of his body, and the sweat starting to paint him.

It's as much of a power rush as calling upon his magic, and Caleb's pulse throbs, his cock crying out for attention, which he denies. More pre-come dribbles across his tongue, Essek making little gasps and sounds of pleasure until his eyes snap open, bright silver, and looks at Caleb with barely banked heat.

Caleb holds his gaze and swallows around Essek, stroking the flat of his tongue at the same time, as Essek visibly shudders and his muscles draw tight.

"Enough," he gasps, in echo of Caleb earlier. "Your mouth is too sweet, and it is not where either of us intend to finish the night, yes?"

Caleb lets him slip free, barely repressing his smirk. "That suggests there won't be a morning."

Essek slips back and curves over Caleb, hands cupping his face as he seals their lips in a kiss that betrays the urgency inside him. "There will be a morning," he says into the kiss, and threads his fingers through Caleb's hair.

His fingernails scrape across Caleb’s scalp, and tingles race over Caleb’s skin. As Essek pulls back, he waves the hair tie in one triumphant hand, flicking it away. The other he leaves buried in Caleb’s hair, fingers wound among the ginger strands.

"You seem to have some fascination with my hair, Shadowhand," Caleb observes as Essek tugs at him just so, a pull on his scalp that pulls a groan from the depths of Caleb’s belly.

"Do I?" Essek bends down, kissing Caleb again, more urgent now, his tongue sweeping into Caleb's mouth as though the taste of himself is incendiary.

Caleb seizes Essek's hips and breaks off the kiss. "Enough delaying."

"I thought you were more patient than this, Caleb," Essek murmurs, his face aglow with delight and hunger in equal measures. But he does shift, notching himself between Caleb's thighs and rocking their hips together.

Caleb hooks a leg around Essek's waist, rolling up to meet him and fisting his cock with his other hand, until Essek lightly swats it away.

"And you are clearly one for control," Caleb points out as he grips the blanket instead, while his every being throbs urgently, his breaths coming in sharper bursts.

"Control is necessary to manipulate the threads of fate," Essek reminds him with a sharp grin. One hand curves around Caleb's thigh as he retrieves the oil with the other, stroking it liberally over himself. "Do you not agree?"

Caleb grabs one of Essek's silken pillows and stuffs it under his hips, without grace or dignity perhaps, but he's willing to sacrifice both at the moment. "You seek control in everything," he observes, and oh, how he'd love to lay Essek upon this bed and see if he can't convince the Shadowhand to cede some of that control.

"Not everything," Essek demurs as he nudges Caleb's hole. He grips Caleb's hips, holding him in place. He pauses then, and his free hand tangles in Caleb's hair. "May I?"

"I insist," Caleb says, and cants his hips up to meet him.

Essek bends down for another kiss, unexpectedly sweet, as he pushes inside, with only the barest hint of a burn before it dissolves into delicious fullness. Caleb groans into the kiss, heat licking up his spine, grabbing at Essek to pull him closer and deeper, until he’s fully seated.

A low sound of pleasure rises in Essek’s throat. He takes a moment, a breath or two, before he starts to move, and Caleb gasps, moving with him, dancing lights in the back of his vision, and the breath punched out of him. He rises up to meet each thrust, urgency building to a dull roar at the base of his spine.

Caleb reaches for himself, but once more, Essek lightly bats his hand away. A protest rises to Caleb's lips, until Essek's eyes narrow, and invisible fingers suddenly wrap around him, faintly tingling with arcane energy.

"Show off," Caleb says, but it's more of a gasp, as his back bows and pleasure licks through his entire body. He throbs, spilling slick over the magical touch.

"It's a matter of focus," Essek replies, with that edge of a smirk. He grips Caleb's hips thrusting in sharper, deeper bursts. "I'm sure you are capable of it as well."

"Not in this moment." Caleb moans again as a shift of Essek's hips glides him along that bundle of nerves deep inside, licking more fire through his veins.

Essek laughs, breathy and genuine. "Then all you need is practice. I am happy to volunteer." His eyes flash again, silver with arcane energy, and the hand on Caleb tightens its grip, strokes him faster, with the perfect pressure.

The sheets twist in his fingers. Essek might seek to maintain control, but it is far from Caleb's grasp in the moment. He's filled with fire, running through his veins, boiling in the pit of his belly, and another deep thrust sends it crackling over his body. He spills over the spectral hand, his back arching, and his vision briefly going white.

His entire body thrums with the echoes of pleasure, and Caleb peels his eyes open -- when had he closed them? -- as the spectral hand vanishes, and Essek's mouth descends. He grips Caleb's hips and thrusts in earnest, lips sloppy as they press to Caleb's mouth, with only the semblance of control in the tight lines of his body.

Caleb groans, over-stimulated yet eager, rising up to meet each thrust. "You may spill within me, Shadowhand," he murmurs as Essek's mouth abandons his. He presses his forehead to Caleb's clavicle, muscles shifting under the caress of Caleb's palm.

He makes a noise of want, a sound which tightens something in Caleb's gut, and his thrusts increase in earnest, faster, sharper, more intense. Magic rises around him in a tangible aura, and it's as intoxicating as the drow himself. He must be close; there’s an in his movements, in the hot puffs of his exhales.

Caleb threads his fingers through Essek's hair, too short to get much of a grip, but his blunt nails scrape at his scalp, and he murmurs into Essek's ear, "Let go, Essek. I'll catch you."

Essek at once stiffens and loosens above him, hips jerking in sharp thrusts before he presses deep and spills in pulses of heat. He drags himself to Caleb's mouth for a kiss, a lazy meeting of their lips, before he goes boneless, sucking in quiet, hungry breaths.

Caleb rolls, taking Essek with him, and though Essek slips free of his body, it is worth it to press his mouth over Essek's throat and the curve of his neck, to taste the salt painting his skin, and feel the rapid flutter of Essek's heartbeat against his lips. Pleasure thrums beneath Caleb's skin, a lazy satisfaction filling him with a quiet warmth.

"Would that be checkmate then?" he asks once he catches his breath.

Essek chuckles and threads his fingers through Caleb's hair once more, so that it frames his face. "It depends on what you consider winning." He pulls Caleb into another kiss, slower, more savoring.

Caleb hums and lets his gaze linger over the Shadowhand. Essek, disheveled, is as much a sight to behold as his fully put-together state. Sweat paints his darkened skin, his hair in wild disarray around his face. He is quite beautiful, and that he not only allows this between them but also seeks it, continues to be a point of confusion to Caleb.

“It’s hard to say,” Caleb says. “I honestly don’t wish to be in competition with you.”

The corner of Essek’s mouth curves. “It is a game between friends, nothing more.”

“You call me friend then?”

Essek arches an eyebrow. “Have I not before?”

“Not in so many words.”

“Then allow me to rectify that.” He cards his fingers through Caleb’s hair. “We are friends, Mr. Widogast. Professional and personal.”

Caleb turns his head, pressing a kiss to Essek’s palm. “We are friends,” he agrees, and gives Essek a wry look. “Perhaps even friends who share a bath?”

“I do have access to one.” Essek sits up and presses a kiss to the curve of Caleb’s jaw. “A bath, a meal, and perhaps more studying?”

Caleb strokes the pad of his fingers along the underside of Essek’s jaw. “If you’ve so much energy to continue studying after our bath, I don’t think I’m doing my job correctly.”

Essek laughs, soft but genuine. “A fair assertion. I suppose we’ll have to see.” He slides out of the bed, still gloriously nude, and a wave of his hand produces a sheer robe to drape over his frame. “Well? Shall we bathe?”

“Do you have another robe for me?” Caleb asks, though nudity doesn’t bother him quite so much, he suspects it is a matter of decency for the Xhorassians.

Essek snaps his fingers and another robe appears, which he hands to Caleb, this one a thicker, darker shade, less enticing than the one currently sparkling around Essek’s shoulders.

“Yes, that will do. Thank you.” Caleb wraps it around his frame, though he doesn’t miss the banked heat in his companion’s gaze. It’s still a marvel to him that Essek finds something worth desiring in this scarred body of his.

He supposes their bath will be as much dirty as it will be clean, but that’s all right. They have until morning, after all, and there’s no reason not to savor each moment.

***

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is very welcome and appreciated! This is my first time writing ShadowGast so I'd love to know how I did. :)


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